The days in the Shen household seemed to slip by like water through cupped hands—quiet, steady, and strangely warm.
Xu Ming woke early, as usual, but instead of stumbling around half-asleep, he had already formed a routine. He would sweep the small yard, tend to the vegetable patch they had begun planting together, and sometimes prepare a simple breakfast before Shen Li returned from his morning hunt.
Today, though, he lingered by the doorway, waiting. The autumn chill had crept into the air, turning the mountain mist into a veil of white that clung stubbornly to the rooftops. Xu Ming rubbed his hands together, his breath puffing like smoke.
Not long after, the crunch of footsteps on frosted grass signaled Shen Li's return. The tall hunter emerged from the mist like a figure carved out of the wilderness itself—broad shoulders draped with animal hide, hair damp with dew, and a freshly caught hare slung across his back.
Xu Ming felt his lips curve without meaning to. "You're back."
Shen Li's eyes flickered toward him, unreadable as always, but there was the slightest pause before he nodded. "Mm. You're up early."
"I was waiting." Xu Ming blurted out before he could stop himself. His cheeks warmed, and he quickly added, "The firewood pile is almost low. I thought I'd ask if you want me to fetch some with you later."
Shen Li's brow lifted. He rarely allowed anyone to follow him into the mountain, yet for some reason, the words that came out of his mouth weren't rejection. Instead, he said, "We'll see."
Xu Ming's New Ideas
After breakfast, Xu Ming crouched in the yard, staring at the basket of herbs he'd gathered the day before. His modern mind ticked restlessly. He knew many herbs had uses beyond medicine—seasonings, teas, even soaps. If he could find a way to process and preserve them, they might fetch a good price in town.
When Shen Li returned from chopping wood, he found Xu Ming frowning at the leaves like a scholar poring over a puzzle.
"What are you thinking about?" Shen Li asked, setting the axe aside.
Xu Ming started, then bit his lip. "I was… wondering if we could sell herbs. Or maybe dried vegetables. People in the village don't have much variety in their food. If we prepare them properly, maybe it could become a small business."
Shen Li didn't laugh or dismiss him. Instead, he crouched down beside Xu Ming, picked up a stalk of mint, and rubbed it between his fingers, the sharp scent rising. "You're saying people will buy this?"
"Yes," Xu Ming said firmly. "Not everyone can climb mountains. If we make it convenient, they'll pay."
Shen Li was silent for a moment, then said simply, "If you want to try, I'll bring back more."
Xu Ming blinked. That was it—no mockery, no refusal. Just quiet support. His heart skipped in a way that had nothing to do with business.
....
A few days later, while Xu Ming was trading vegetables with an old woman down the road, he overheard hushed voices drifting from the well.
"Did you hear? That Xu family girl, the pretty one, was married off to a noble in town…"
"A noble? Pah! What noble! The man's a butcher—covered in blood every day. They lied, said he had a rich family background. Turns out he can barely afford meat for his own table!"
"Hah! Serves them right. Always strutting about as if their children were treasures. Look at the son too—failed the scholar exam again. The whole village is laughing."
Xu Ming's fingers tightened on the basket handle. For a moment, the old bitterness surged—the memory of his stepmother's cold eyes, his father's silence, the endless scorn. But then, he exhaled slowly.
It wasn't his business anymore.
When the old woman noticed his silence, she patted his hand kindly. "You don't need to care, child. You have your own household now. That family can rot for all I care."
Xu Ming managed a smile. "You're right. I don't care."
And to his surprise, he realized he meant it.
Shen Li's Quiet Support
That evening, Xu Ming recounted the gossip lightly over dinner. Shen Li ate silently, expression unreadable. But when Xu Ming joked, "Seems like they're finally getting their retribution," Shen Li looked up sharply.
"You don't need to laugh it off," Shen Li said in his low, steady voice. "If they wronged you, you can be angry. You don't always have to pretend you don't feel anything."
Xu Ming froze. The warmth of the fire cast shadows across Shen Li's face, deepening the sharpness of his jaw, the strength in his gaze. It wasn't pity in his eyes, but something else—something steady and grounding.
Xu Ming's throat tightened. "…I'm not pretending. I really don't care anymore. Because I have here."
The words slipped out before he realized how revealing they sounded. Shen Li's chopsticks paused mid-air. His gaze softened, almost imperceptibly.
"…Good."
That single word, spoken so simply, settled in Xu Ming's heart like an ember, glowing warm.
A New Resolve
Over the next days, Xu Ming threw himself into his plans. He experimented with drying herbs on bamboo racks, trying to figure out which retained their flavor. Shen Li, true to his word, brought back bundles of plants whenever he returned from the mountain, silently placing them at Xu Ming's side as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Sometimes, their hands brushed when Xu Ming took the bundle. Each time, his heart skipped traitorously, though Shen Li showed no reaction. Or perhaps—Xu Ming thought—his silence was a reaction.
One afternoon, while they were stringing herbs together, Xu Ming caught Shen Li's gaze lingering just a heartbeat too long. He quickly looked away, ears turning red.
The space between them was no longer the cold, empty void it once was. It was filling—slowly, almost imperceptibly—with something tender.
Xu Ming realized then: he wasn't just surviving here anymore. He was living.
News of the Xu Family's Fall
By the end of the week, gossip about the Xu family's humiliation was everywhere. Xu Ming's stepsister cried daily in her new home, struggling with the butcher's temper and the stink of blood. His stepbrother, humiliated by his repeated exam failure, rarely left the house.
Villagers whispered gleefully, "Serves them right. They thought they'd rise above us. Now look at them!"
For Xu Ming, it was distant thunder—loud, but harmless. Each time he heard the gossip, he found himself more detached, his ties to that family unraveling until they were little more than ghosts.
When some villagers tried to mock him by association, Shen Li stepped in without hesitation. His tall figure and cold eyes silenced them with a single glare. Afterward, Xu Ming teased, "You're scarier than any gossip," but his heart felt strangely full.
...
That night, as the two of them sat by the small fire, Xu Ming carefully arranged the drying herbs. His mind whirled with ideas—future plans, possibilities, hopes.
Beside him, Shen Li quietly sharpened his knife, the rasp of steel against stone steady and soothing.
For a long time, they sat in companionable silence. Then Xu Ming whispered, almost to himself, "This is enough. As long as it's like this… it's enough."
Shen Li glanced at him, eyes deep and unreadable, but in the flickering light, Xu Ming thought he saw something soft flicker there.
Something like promise.